


Trust

by acrosspontneuf (FangedAngel)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Kneeling, Pegging, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 07:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19436905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangedAngel/pseuds/acrosspontneuf
Summary: The memory of the times they’d spoken of it make her skin flush. He’d told her of his previous dalliances with men, and she’d told him of hers with women, and it had been one of those moments of perfect understanding  between them that she’d questioned the validity of in the wake of the revelations. He’d told her of how he wanted to feel her inside him, and she ached for it, and now she aches for it again, wanting him almost desperately.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> This is a [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/user?u=17929732) reward fic for the stunning and amazing [@Katieee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katieee/pseuds/Katieee).  
> Featuring: two bisexual characters, explicit content, subtle power play, extremely chaotic and rambly writing, rusty smut skill, and a general lack of dialogue. Also: some angst and mentions of shitty past behaviour (looking at you, Thom).

Months after Corypheus, Cadash finds it, stashed at the bottom of her wardrobe underneath an abundance of scraps of colourful materials.  
Dagna had crafted it long ago, taking full advantage of Cadash drunkenly letting the fantasy slip from her one night when they’d stolen some of Bull’s Maraas-Lok. They’d giggled together in the Undercroft, two surfacers far from home, and all it took was for Dagna to know that Blackwall was very much on board with the fantasy. Two weeks later, Cadash was presented with the product of Dagna’s work, and if it hadn’t been so intimate Cadash would’ve shown her genius to the world once more.

Of course, mere days later Blackwall turned out to be a stranger, and the present was hidden away. Cadash spent many of the nights after Thom Rainier’s trial awake and alone, both fury and pain tearing into her, trying to make sense of all the conflict within her. She yearned for him while also feeling almost violently angry towards him, the betrayal almost as hard to accept as his crime. She missed him yet hated him for the way he’d looked at her, like she was a stranger, like she was a criminal, when she spoke her forgiveness from her throne. She loved him, but didn’t even know what to call him, and the concept of trusting him again seemed impossible then.

She left for the Graves not long after the trial, poignantly keeping him out of the expedition. They’d been screaming at each other for days, hurling accusations that could be heard all across the fortress, and she was exhausted. He’d been standing at the entrance to the stables when she departed and she refused to look at him. No one commented on his absence, which made her very aware of the look on her face.

When she returned, he was in her chambers. He kneeled and asked her forgiveness and her heart felt almost bruised with how much she loved him. They talked until dawn break, and the shadow of secrets lifted, and it didn’t make what had happened vanish, but it helped.

It hadn’t been easy since, not between them, not with Corypheus, so she’d not thought of the box, but now Corypheus is gone and it’s in her hands again. The memory of the times they’d spoken of it make her skin flush. He’d told her of his previous dalliances with men, and she’d told him of hers with women, and it had been one of those moments of perfect understanding between them that she’d questioned the validity of in the wake of the revelations. He’d told her of how he wanted to feel her inside him, and she ached for it, and now she aches for it again, wanting him almost desperately. 

He’s in the yard, aiding Cullen with some of the new recruits that keep pouring in to aid with the aftermath of Corypheus’ defeat.  
The balcony windows are open, and the wind is just right enough that it occasionally carries fragments of his voice to her. She knows it’s too early in the day to call for him, but it gives her time, and Cadash always makes the best use of time.

*  
They both have damp hair when he comes to her, and she smiles at the thought of him cleaning up in the stables while she bathed here in her rooms. His hair’s pulled up in that messy way she likes, and she can’t wait to get her hands on him, but she loves the anticipation of it.

She can sense the exhaustion on him, the pain of old wounds evident on his face. She’s sitting at her desk, and he kneels next to her as is his wont, burying his face in the crook of her neck.  
She smells like amber from her bath, and it goes well with the musky scent on him. It feels like they’ve both aged a lifetime since they met, but she’ll never get tired of the way his hair feels when she brushes it with her fingers, of the way his mouth yields to her hunger when she kisses him, of the sight of him on his knees and worshipping her even though he’s twice her height.

So much has passed between them, and she knows it’s left them here, right as they are, knowing each other inside out with all that entails. Despite wanting to change some variables, she’d never change the outcome, she’d never give this up. She kisses it all over his face and hopes he knows exactly how she feels.

They move lazily against each other, and she allows his touches but it’s almost like he feels that he should be looking at her for permission, his eyes dark blue and his mouth red and his hands all over her, slipping under her clothes.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach between her thighs and notice, and when he does his cheeks flush red and she grins.

‘Surprise,’ she says, her fingers tightening their grip on his hair and loosening the tie.

‘A very pleasant one, my lady,’ he murmurs against the pulse point at her neck, and she shivers at the tone of his voice.

They’re both dishevelled to the point of extremity by the time they make it to the vastness of her bed, and neither of them seem to remember how to breathe. Cadash lets him undress her after he’s done with his own clothes, lets his hands linger on the harness of the toy and along the length of it, but when he bends to take it in his mouth she pulls him up by the hair and kisses him instead. She wants a clear head for this.

He lets himself be directed into the position she wants him in, on his back with enough space for her between his legs. Cadash watches him for a moment, drinking in the sight of the backs of his thighs as she presses her fingers into them, spreading him open and letting the toy linger against his skin like a promise. He’s shaking with want and she’s responding to it, her heart hammering in her chest, her mouth dry, everything in her coiled tight with need.

His breath hitches when she slips quick fingers inside him, wet with the fancy Orlesian oil that perfumes her own skin, and she gives him more until he can’t say her name anymore, his voice breaking on beautiful pleas. 

Cadash rolls her wrist when she withdraws her fingers from him, her hand cramping, and she smiles at him, all innocent, while she makes him wait, while she waits for his breathing to calm.

She braces herself with a hand on his hip and another on the back of his thigh again. She lets the tip of the toy rest against him, just a suggestion of pressure, and he makes a sound she’s never heard before, a desperate, gorgeous thing.

She looks at him and presses her mouth to his thigh, the toy dark and slick and flexible against the pallor of his skin. When he inhales, she pushes with her hips, ever so slowly. His hands are desperate as well, wrapping around her wrists, and the noise coming from his throat is constant.

For a second, Cadash only wishes she could press his forehead to his, and then she pulls him up so that he’s sitting on the bed, and he has to lower his head to hers in a way that stretches his already sore muscles but it works. They’re forehead to forehead, breath to breath, and the way he’s looking at her is overwhelming, so she holds on to him and thrusts, again, and again, and again, until he’s begging so loudly that everyone must know what she’s doing to him. His eyes are intensely blue, and his hair is a tangled mess, and his face is open and vulnerable, and he is hers, and Cadash moves against the toy, against him, rolling into the motion and sinking into it. It becomes apparent to her that the pleasure of the wearer was not ignored when the toy was crafted, and she almost laughs because it all feels giddy, it all feels too much, and the way he gives in to her is glorious.

His name slips out from her, his real name, /Thom/, falling in between them like a forbidden word, and she swears he stops breathing, so she says it again, and then once more, timing it to her thrusts. She’s basically holding him up now and it’s ecstatic, the power she has in carrying the weight of a human warrior, the power she has in providing him with the safety to be himself. Cadash kisses him, messy and intense, and then lets him fall back on the bed and gives him the pace he’s begging for, relentless and fast and on that perfect edge of too much.

She feels invincible when Thom comes all over himself with her name in his mouth, clawing at the sheets like he’s never experienced anything like this before. She rewards him by saying his name again when she reaches the same heights, and her own voice shudders, and whatever tension still remained between them, lurking out of sight in the shadow of a false name, vanishes.

Cadash discards the toy off the bed, to be dealt with later, and she presses herself to Thom, holding him. He’s still shaking, still flushed, still unable to catch his breath, looking completely debauched, completely free. 

He curls into her and falls asleep with a smile on his face, and Cadash knows they both need to jump into a bath immediately but she allows herself to savour the moment. For now, they are together, and each other’s, and there’s nothing else that matters.


End file.
